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Paper Politics in Thailand

Teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites, I know, but if all of my classes could be like my Matyam 2/1, they would all be my favorite. I call this my genius class, although that just means they listen intently to whatever it is I have to say.

The majority of my students have slowly separated like oil and water over the past seven weeks. The half who want to learn English sit in front while the other half entertain themselves in the back. Before I started, several people told me not to worry about the ones who don’t listen, to just focus on those who do.

I understand this now, but when the back half is busy beating each other with broom sticks and throwing paper balls at the front half while standing on top of desks and yelling profanities in Thai…it’s hard to forget they’re there. I’ve learned to let most of it slide and to continue with class, as long as the ones who want to hear me are able to. It’s when it comes to grading that the situation doesn’t roll off my back as easily as a wad of paper.

In Thailand, students don’t fail. Even if they spend the entire period playing just outside the classroom door or, like 45 of my students, they never show up to class and I never meet them, I’m required to give them a passing grade. It’s the politics of a public school, where all proof lies on paper.

The same goes for cancelling class. Thirty kids go to an English competition in a neighboring town. Why not cancel school for the other 1,470? It’s constitution day. Holiday anyone? There’s a blind woman on campus. Let’s hold a school-wide fundraiser for her cause. Just make sure to mark all the kids present. We must show 20 contact hours each semester. On paper.

It’s only my first term, so I have yet to turn in these highly cherished attendance/grade records, but I’ve been warned to expect issues when I do. I have 950 students (according to the books) but I can only remember the names of maybe ten. I have no way of knowing which students are sons and daughters of my co-workers, but if one happens to be in my class and I give them a meager grade (though they probably earned a failing one), I’ll be asked to change it. Teachers are highly respected, and their offspring are to be excellent students. On paper.

It’s impossible to be fired from a government teaching position, so it’s like a golden ticket for the entire family. This must be the reason I walk past four unmanned classrooms on the way to mine each day. It must also be the reason men drink whiskey in their office during school hours. And it has to be the reason nobody seems to care if a child learns nothing. As long as the school can show he did. On paper.

Speaking of paper, I have an entire profile that my agency, AYC, gave to the school before they hired me. This profile holds a top-notch resume in the art of teaching, which I did not create; a perfectly copied original diploma from a university I don’t know exists; reference letters from people whose names I can’t pronounce, and transcripts I did not send. I’m the perfect candidate for an English teacher. On paper.

It’s nothing my agency did shamelessly – this is common practice in Thailand. It’s true I lacked any teaching experience before coming here, but most schools don’t require it. I could have sent AYC an equally good profile and saved them a lot of work, but they didn’t ask.

It seems much of Thailand is run on the same theory I had as a child growing up: It’s easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. There’s always an excuse for why a student isn’t in school – dance lessons, very tired, studying for another subject – and why shouldn’t there be when everything can be so easily fixed on paper?

I do as I’m told because I can’t change a structure that’s been in place for years. All I can do is my best with the students who are willing to try. In the end, a grade is just a meaningless number, and those who actually earn theirs will reap the benefits.

I’d like to have high hope for my genius class, but I’m fairly certain they simply haven’t learned the system yet. Next year, they’ll spend their days outside of the classroom, entertaining each other as they join the ranks of the older and wiser. And the government will be the only ones who believe it.

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10 thoughts on “Paper Politics in Thailand”

Hi Jessica,
Merry Christmas to you from Grandma and me. She’s at my house for the holidays but will spend Christmas Day with your family. On Tuesday, the gang minus the basketball player, will have dinner at my house.

Sounds like the US is not the only country with education problems. It doesn’t sound like a pleasant way to teach with half the class in chaos. Have you tried “rewards” for participation? Sometimes a piece of candy can go a long way.

Merry Christmas to all of you! I believe you had Christmas at your house last night. I hope it went well. I’m sure Grandma is enjoying being out of the house.

As far as the kiddos, some classes are definitely better than others. And yes, I’ve tried candy. It works great – the Thais love competition and rewards – but my meager paycheck can’t afford regular candy rewards for 1,000 students each week, so I have to stick with just the competition and a “good job!” Not quite as successful, but it works.

Thanks for continuing to read! I’m a bit behind so I’m hoping to get caught up soon…

[…] between Christmas and New Year, so while our school has separate celebrations for each (any excuse to cancel class), most people tend to celebrate them together, on January 1, by exchanging gifts and wishing each […]

[…] just enough time to see how many of us remain and to place a check next to our names in his thin, pink book. That book tells our fate as students. It’s all we really care about. It says when we are in class and when we are not. It shows […]

[…] It’s final exam time at Suwannaphum Wittayalai, which means the end of the year is nearly here and students who haven’t come to class all term have decided to show their faces. It also means the Thai teachers have begun work on their lesson plans for the current term (yep, a large book that tells the government what they will teach the students, or in this tardy case, what they supposedly already taught them), as well as writing student grades in the back of their beloved pink books. […]

Thanks for your comment, Anel. Had you taught previously? I realize now that if I had taught in China (or anywhere else, probably) I never would have lasted six months at my school in Thailand. But I loved my co-workers so!